Minions of Athene
by Maejavae
Summary: A glimpse into the past of Odysseus, wherein he refuses to aid the escape of a niece of an important ally and faces the consequences of his decision ten years later.
1. Minions From the Begining

  
... I will not let him forget ... Not now. Not ever...

She had followed him to the beach, the little bay by the dock where the moon shone- a crescent of white light on the dark sand.

He had crouched onto the sand on his haunches, run his fingers through the softness before realising someone was behind him.

With some surprise on his bronzed brow had he seen her, "My Lady, you should not be out here on your own- it isn't safe for a young woman." His tone was even, kindly almost, but with a touch of distancing bitterness.

She did not reply to his words, instead paced closer and closer to him. When she finally spoke her voice was bleary with oncoming tears, "Please- take me away," into his hand -twice the size of hers- she pressed a small collection of gold pieces.

"This was all I managed to collect, I realise it is not enough for the risk, but I offer something else, too." Her own fingers fumbled with the cord of her robe; finally it was pulled away to reveal her nakedness underneath it.

"I have heard my uncle speak of the most precious gift of woman to man- and I offer myself to you, freely..." she trembled in the light cold and the heavy cast of his eyes, "and all I ask of you in return is escape."

He stood still, his tall and lithe form did not flinch at the sight of her glaring and smoothly formed nudity, yet his breath had audibly altered- turning to a sudden and sharp intake.

Finally he averted his eyes, turned to face the sea.

In a falling feeling of despair a cry escaped the girl's lips, "Odysseus," she sobbed meekly.

She clutched at his wrist and no movement of his attempted to avoid her touch; she moved his hand to her breast. Her small, pale breast where his rough palm lay; his hard hot strokes somewhat hesitant still.

"Please."

"No, Silhaume. I am much too old for you." She was barely sixteen, and he past thirty.

"I have wanted you since the first time I heard your name."

He moved his hand away,

"You know nothing of wanting."

"How can you say that? When you yourself know that all I have ever done is want my freedom? I hate this place; I hate my parents for abandoning me with this distant relative whom I am to call 'Uncle'. The money they gave him to care for me is all that keeps him from deserting me himself, instead he has the audacity to try and auction me off for marriage like a horse- or a slave."

"I cannot do what you ask of me," he sighed, with a finite gesture he pulled her robe to close around her shivering form.

The tears escaped her eyes,

"They say that you, Odysseus, have a limitless mercy and empathy- the truth is that you care for nothing but your useless allegiance with my uncle Alchenon!"

She sobbed, an empty sound that echoed in the howls of the crashing waves,

"If I loved you any less I would threaten to tell him that you dragged me onto this beach to rape me. Please, I ask you one last time: have the same love to save me."

Yet he said no more words. His green eyes shone sadly in the moonlight, the proud musculature of his noble frame seemed to flounder under the weight of his screaming conscience. The guiltily subsiding throbbing in his abdomen seared his heart, unlike any other pain he'd felt before.

And could not believe he'd feel again.

She'd run back from the beach to the solemn lights of her uncle's domain, the stone fortress whose cold would ever chill her soul.

Odysseus fled in the night with his men, back to Ithaca. Alchenon could not understand the meaning behind his horridly sudden departure.

Silhaume's tears stilled when she heard of Odysseus' leave, she swore never again to cry for a man nor ever to require the will of a man to fulfil her hopes of freedom.


	2. The Surface Cracks

Despite that tumultuous night ten years prior Odysseus was able to almost completely forget the image of that naked and vulnerably open young girl.

He returned to Alchenon's city upon the elder man's seemingly anxious request: for his only daughter, Seryphia, was to be engaged- and the political opportunity this encased required a wise mentor.

Odysseus felt much obliged to fulfil Alchenon's request, and though he regretted leaving Penelope- his young wife of three years- her pregnancy made it quite dangerous for her to undertake sea voyage. And besides, this summer was one of the most prosperous of the Ithacan crops and his contribution to the labour was unrequired.

On the surface of her mind, it would seem also that Silhaume too, had forgotten that night. The memories seemed pushed away, to some deep and dark recess that in recent days threatened to leak poisonly to the surface of her being.

She was still not married, she had given herself to the temple of Athene, and felt a new rebellion grow within her- she was intelligent, purified by glorious Athene's wisdom and still a virgin. She would not relinquish her body to be sullied by men as her mind had been.

She knelt at the base of the goddess's marble statue and laid a freshly killed fowl at her feet. The bird was still warm, and the rich blood that dripped onto Athene's toes stained them into flesh like hues.

She took her time with her prayers, knowing full well that she would not get back home in time to welcome her uncle's guests. She did not care.

Finally she retreated and, pulling a blue gauze veil over her head, felt invisible as her escort drove her home in the chariot.

She wore the veil, as another mark of respect for Athene- only the goddess was to see her face. She only took it off in the temple and in her private rooms before sleeping. In truth she could not face, unmasked, the other faces of the world.

Silhaume sensed her uncle's anger even before she came before him in the foyer. His face turned red, veins appeared in his forehead,

"Seryphia's honour is at stake- do you care for nothing except the humiliation of your family as you frolic in town!"

"Alchenon, you are not my family, nor do I frolic and well you know I desire none of your said humiliation."

"You're a clever little bitch aren't you? I'll have no more of this!"-

And with those words his short arm shot out and tore the veil down from her head. A tangle of her hair ripped, her eyes blazed. She said nothing, but looked in the near distance- where Alchenon's precious visitors had waited and watched the calamity in silent shock.

Silhaume felt exposed, she felt their eyes crawling like stinging insects up and down her body. Her head spun. Her eyes grew faint with fear of her exposure and Odysseus, standing amidst the crowd saw a familiar weakness erupt in her- he motioned to the other guests to retreat into the main hall.

Alchenon, further enraged at the witnesses of his fury, hurled the shaking woman up the back stairs where she scrambled to the safety of her quarters.

Her uncle growled at her to prepare for dinner, Silhaume heard his words but could not determine their meaning in the chaos of her whirling thoughts.

Seryphia and her nurse found Silhaume a short while later, they wiped the sweat and tears from her face and dressed her in an ornate gown. Slowly Silhaume began to regain sense, she refused to wear the gaudy jewels that Seryphia offered to her and declined the nurse to apply any makeup- especially to the deep scratch on her cheek that her uncle had caused.

She stood alone in front of the mirror whilst Seryphia went to ready herself in her finest wear.

Silhaume was not an unattractive girl- far from it. Though she had not the awe inspiring feminine face or grace of her cousin, she possessed a more steely beauty. Her eyes were a murky blue- secretive and sharp. Her features were most like an uncut gemstone- furiously earthy and dangerously magnetic.

But she was not yet ready to join the dinner feast downstairs.

First, listening that no one was nearby, she opened her wardrobe- at the back of which was hidden a large panel, she pulled it free.

Within was a small shrine- dedicated to Athene- adorned with silver and candles and incense, as well as her most prized possessions: a bronze helmet she had smuggled, along with a spear. She touched the cold surface and felt calmed once again.

As she reinstalled the panel she gazed at the wall drawings of which she had scrawled in her unused kohl pencils and lip colours: Athene springing from Zeus' head, Athene standing tall and magnanimous on Olympus.

Finally, she joined the feast. It was extravagant- Alchenon obviously wanted to impress his honoured guests.

Silhaume detested their eyes on her body as she descended to her seat; she was beside Seryphia and the wife of Kaudion, who attempted several times to strike a conversation on the merits of weaving with the unresponsive Silhaume.

She, in fact, was concentrating on the uproariously laughing figure of Alchenon, laughing at the joke of one the guests. She saw his hidden victory.

She also saw Odysseus, to Alchenon's right, and was flooded with an overwhelming flood of emotion: anger, a strange supremacy and still... love.

Odysseus, grinning with Alchenon, caught Silhaume's eye again and she saw his lips part in some wonder of her. She stared back- in defiance, and also a lingering curiosity for she: the rebellious niece of Alchenon was abhorrent of men and yet the mere sight of this one man, with his irresistible smile and piercing eyes, sent sparks like exploding embers in the core of her belly.

Her mouth was dry and she drank the sweet wine.

Finally Alchenon rose and said, "Perhaps the women would prefer to retire now?" and without word each woman also rose and said a respectful goodnight to their spouses, Seryphia kissed her father's cheek.

Silhaume had remained seated.

"Silhaume, perhaps you'd like to retire now?"

Silhaume paused, took another sip of wine and smiled,

"Yes, uncle, perhaps I would," she stood up, to the relief of Alchenon, but then continued,

"Unless you would prefer to tear off another portion of my clothing and cause me to bleed? No? Oh, I see- I am embarrassing you again, please accept my weak, womanly apologies."

She made a crude bow and retreated to the direction of her rooms, yet here she paused- expecting the inevitable- as she hid behind a pillar.

She heard Alchenon address the entire table, "I am sorry, my dear, dear friends for that altercation- but my niece, she is quite ill- there are terrible thoughts in her mind. I know not what to do with her."

Another man spoke, "I mean no disrespect, Alchenon, but she is too unruly- and there is only one way to deal with an unruly woman..." as he trailed off he must have made some sort of sexual allusion for the entire party laughed.

Then another spoke- there was the even, and mystical huskiness of Odysseus' voice,

"So you mean to say, Tarenid, that Silhaume is to be 'broken'- like a horse..."

Silhaume knew then that he was looking at her- his piercing eyes breaching her hiding place,

"...Or a slave?"

There was more talk- chattering and laughter as the men joked of what to do with the unmarried maid- she was almost 26 years old!

A heavy weight- bile, a poison- filtered into Silhaume's blood.

She stalked from behind the pillar, back to the suddenly silent table,

She stood above Alchenon,

"You- spineless excuse for life. I have seen more useful creatures in the gizzards of dead livestock!

If you wish to speak of how further you plan to destroy what remains of me then have the gall to address me alone."

She had slammed her hands onto the tabletop- shards of glass embedded in her fingers. Her blooded hand moved to Alchenon's face- she clawed at his eyes, but he kicked her away.

She did not fall, but faced Odysseus, "And you- 'wily, Ithacan fox' have a no better sense of wisdom than him!"

By now Alchenon sat wiping his face, he motioned at one of the servants to lead her away.

She did so, with no attempt to fight.

Silhaume collapsed into bed; she did not wash away the blood on her hands. She shut her eyes and found her heart was empty, though it pounded like a drum.

Finally she wept- twice already today and ten years after she had shed tears last.


	3. Shards Form in the Fissure

The next morning- as all others- Silhaume went to the temple of Athene to make her daily offerings and prayer.

Her thoughts were ravaged by the previous night's sleep. She dreamt of blood, spilt blood and woke only to hear the sounds of her whimpering echoing around her bed.

She bent from Athene's feet and touched the place on the goddess's breast, underwhich- had she been not so godly, nor a stature- would beat her heart.

She readied to leave, but found that she sighed- and could not leave the safety of Athene's gaze.

Silhaume sat in the shadows framing the doorway, silent- and invisible, as she so loved to be.

She was suddenly startled when someone entered from that very doorway. From the footfalls she sensed it was a man, perhaps someone called to summon her back to Alchenon's lair...

But no- it was Odysseus.

Silhaume knew then that he- with his bronzed shoulders, and carelessly arranged clothing- was perfection, and that all those who would ever ask of Odysseus would know of his greatness: with or without her.

She watched him kneel, so unprotected yet so brave, and his back curve as if molten and felt her breath catch in her throat.

And the tiniest detail of him only heightened her unfamiliar arousal: the curls of hair framing the back of his neck, the muscles of which tensed in his pose...

A part of her- somewhere deep inside the core of her- sang, and yet perhaps that part of her was buried far too deeply long ago- another part of her screamed.

Silhaume leapt up, and fled from the temple, from her torturous emotions, but most from Odysseus.

When she returned to Alchenon's house, again she knew that in those terrible walls that something was desperately amiss.

With a sudden fleeting panic rising in her mind she lunged to her rooms- and gasped.

He had ruined it. Alchenon and his beastly allies had ransacked the sacred space of her quarters. There was such chaos, and as her uncle moved toward the exposed panel at the back of her wardrobe Silhaume sobbed loudly, extravagantly,

"Uncle! What are you doing, why must you cause me such pain?"

Alchenon smiled cruelly, and continued his plundering- the planks were pulled loose.

Knowing that her act of weakness would not contain him, she reverted to shouting,

"Have you not done enough already? What more do you expect that I own in this retched place!"

And then her words faltered for the boards were loose, and the light that flooded the shrine space exposed it for what it was. It's simple beauty and the painstaking love that was needed to care and make it was too quickly trampled as Alchenon reached for two very unwomanly objects by Athene's shrine.

"What are these doing here?" The helmet and the spear.

Silhaume shuddered; Alchenon's expression was fierce.

"They are mine."

"They are stolen- and you should not have them," his last words- meaning to sound like an expression of false care came with harsh intonation.

She tried to reclaim them from his grasp. She failed.

Silhaume was left in her room, alone and lacking of any possessions. Alchenon locked the door and there were no windows.

After sometime, familiar footsteps paused outside Silhaume's door. She scrambled, and felt the warmth of his breath through the keyhole. She whispered,

"Odysseus, I am breaking."

Then there was Alchenon's voice, further down the hall as he called Odysseus away.

The whispered reply of his husky voice came as follows:

"Use your cherished mind- entail Alchenon's forgiveness."

The lonely, empty sound of his leave mirrored the seeming sounds of her heart as it faded.

She was forbidden to leave her room the morning next, yet her request for speaking to her uncle could not go ignored.

He was eating an early breakfast alone. How silhaume would have loved to carve his face out with his fine cutlery...

Instead, she bowed meekly at his feet, "Dear Uncle, speak not yet- for I fear you may not interpret my intention correctly."

With some alarmed surprise fading in his eyes he allowed her to continue.

"I see now, how wrong I was to disobey you. And I ask nothing in return for expressing my apology- I merely wish to ask what it is that you want me to do in order that I may gain some of your deserved forgiveness..."

Alchenon kissed her forehead and though Silhaume was unprepared for this she willed herself not to shrink back in disgust.

"Silhaume, my dearest niece, all you need do is take the same lessons of life as your cousin- let her teach you how you may, in the future, be a good wife."

When she departed as calmly as she could manage from Alchenon Silhaume ran to the beach, far past the gates of the house.

Here she fell to her knees. And vomited, until her throat burned.


	4. The Uncertainty Begins the Breaking

When Seryphia was granted permission the next day to practice her weaving with her cousin she was indeed pleased to see Silhaume- despite her pale complexion and somewhat absent spirit.

The hours trailed their miserable feet. Seryphia chattered on with amiable pleasure, but her cheerfulness faltered when she but looked at Silhaume.

Each time Seryphia looked away Silhaume stabbed a sharp needle into her arm, and smiled gently in her agony when Seryphia expected her to.

Finally she was able to fully embed the metal shard into the flesh of her outer arm. Of this conquest she grinned gloriously, Seryphia noted her sudden glee with delight,

"See- Silhaume, all is never too bad!"

"I know."

In this dead silence of the night Silhaume stirred from her stillness in the locked, empty room. Pinching the end of the needle, and gritting her teeth, she pulled it out. A large purple bruise swelled in its absence.

With some effort she managed to pick the inner hinderings of the lock, holding he r breath- she exited, free.

But she had not gotten as far as the downstairs foyer when she spun round- to face Odysseus.

His white teeth glinted in the darkness, "If I loved you less I would threaten to betray you attempt to run away, like a thief, in the night."

His words struck a fragile chord within her, "You speak of love for me... Why didn't you love me back then? You were not married, so that is not the reason.

What did I lack?"

He said nothing.

"Your words mean more than you intend- you are threatening to tell Alchenon, and I am fearful of that because I know that now I am trapped and beyond true escape."

"Silhaume..." he had tried to reach for her, to draw her close to him and to comfort her. But she wanted none of his comfort and pushed him away as she fled to the violated security of her chamber. After, retrieving a simple object of hers from Alchenon's study.

Why didn't he love her? Her claims raged in his mind.

He did. Or, he does- for the answer now, after his confrontation with her, is marred beyond recognition.


	5. The Inevitable Rupture

The autumn festival, the day of which the gods parade through the centre of the city- a reminder of the pledges needed for the potentially perilous winter ahead. Though not the true gods of course, great actors were called to portray them in the ceremonial walk.

From the secret place where Silhaume had watched, she saw Odysseus. For the occasion he wore his armour, and his hair and skin shone in the sunlight.

Amidst all of the music, the colour, the song, none was more striking than the great Odysseus himself. And he was seated beside Alchenon, to the latter's triumph.

And Odysseus rose and cheered for none, but merely watched those around him do so... until the distinctive, elegant form of Athene was in his sight.

He had risen from his seat and paced forth- into the spectacle. There, before the white robed and helmet adorned apparition, he regarded Athene's eyes.

And recognised them without hesitation.

Silhuame's breathing sped beneath the helmet, her body tensed. He did not touch her, but with a careful and exaggerated movement, sank to her feet- heat radiating in waves from him to her.

The rest of the world disappeared. In her disguise, she was not afraid.

Odysseus placed the palms of his hands onto the top of her feet and laid a faint kiss onto her soft skin.

A quiet moan escaped her mouth.

But beyond the intense delectation of this moment was Alchenon- with a sudden flare of recognition he distinguished the familiar bronze helmet of Athene.

With an ugly shout he tore the helmet from Silhaume's head.

Silence around them all. A flurry of surprise, anticipation, action.

Servants are summoned to capture the niece and to incarcerate her in the cellar of Alchenon's house for the time being.

From his belt Silhaume snatched a short dagger, she held it at her wrists,

"Leave me, or I will."

The uncle laughed,

"What would I care?" and he shouted again for her to be restrained.

Silhaume darted to attack Alchenon with the sharp dagger, but Odysseus' powerful grip overwhelmed her and drove the knife from her hands.

With a startled look of appeal into his face, Silhaume gasped. It was a look that shattered the bulk of Odysseus' armour and ruptured the strength of his heart.

Silhaume ran.


	6. That, Which is Broken

None knew where to find her. Save for one- Odysseus. And as he, as well as half the city undertook the task of recovering Silhaume to her uncle, avoided notice he hurried to where he knew she would be.

The beach. The little bay by the dock where he had long ago denied her freedom and driven her to the wildness of mind that now was her only salvation.

She was lying on the sand, she had wept.

"You must go home Silhaume, before the consequences are too great."

When she spoke he was unable to comprehend the mad evenness of her voice,

"You are so weak, Odysseus. Almost as weak as me," she sighed, "and as naive. I cannot go back. It cannot be done."

"Don't talk like this."

"There is no other way that this could happen."

He lost his calm, grabbed hold of her wrist, "Could it really have been better- if I had taken you away?"

"It will hurt you much if I say the truth," she ripped out of his hold. He tried again to still her; she leapt back- agile and expecting of his every move.

Then she ran; the skin of her bare feet tearing on the jagged rocks surrounding the beach. Odysseus took off after her, sprinting with more ease in sandals.

Silhaume had halted at the height of a great hanging cliff.

Has he spurned her on to this?

"Please don't."

"I asked you 'please' on that night."

She regarded the treacherous landing beneath the overhang with a smile.

"Silhaume..."

"Goodbye, Odysseus my love."

With outstretched arms she jumped backward into the jarring crevices below, trusting that no foolish hands would try to deter her from this deed.

The waves swallowed her without pause, accepting the poisonous madness of her soul.

Odysseus returned to Ithaca with a fraction of his mind missing. He could not explain to Penelope what went wrong.

Twelve days after Silhaume's plunge her body washed back upon the shore; perhaps the sea could not receive the bile of her past after all. When he saw the lifeless corpse Odysseus wished she had looked peaceful, released. But she was not.

Her lovely face was a bundle of missing flesh; her magnificent eyes were gone- digested by the ocean creatures.

Odysseus hid his sorrow and torment of the innocent girl's death, but he would not ever forget it.

Alchenon was plagued horribly by his niece's death. He swore on some nights that he could she her wandering ghost, that she would not let him sleep.

Each one of his friends and relatives had died within the twelve days. Many, like Seryphia, whilst swimming by the beaches whom were bitten by deadly sea snakes.

Alchenon claimed, countlessly, as he was driven further and further from sanity that-

She would not let him forget.


End file.
